


At Last I See the Light

by MitchiBee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternative Universe- Tangled (2010) Fushion, Arya/Cat is Eugene/Flynn, Cussing, F/M, Implied Past Incest, Implied emotional/psychological abuse, Tommen is Rapunzel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5503838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MitchiBee/pseuds/MitchiBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is the story of how I died. The story of how Cat of the Canals died for a boy with golden hair named Tommen. And it starts with the sun.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He is Sunlight Shaped like a Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gryphoness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryphoness/gifts).



> This is the Tomya—Tangled AU created by myself and the wonderful Rea. This tells Tangled from Arya (Eugene)'s point of view, rather than Tommen (Rapunzel)'s.

This is the story of how I died. The story of how Cat of the Canals died for a boy with golden hair named Tommen. And it starts with the sun.

Once upon a time, a single drop of sunlight fell from the heavens and from this small drop of sun grew a magic golden flower. It had the ability to heal the sick and injured.

Centuries passed and further west grew a kingdom. The kingdom was ruled by a benevolent king and queen: King Jamie Lannister and his Queen Brienne of Tarth. When the Queen was withchild for a second time, she fell ill, gravely ill. Thus the people searched for a miracle— the magic golden flower.

The King’s twin sister searched as well for the famous flower, which could save her good sister’s life. With the guidance of her advisors and maesters, she found it on a remote cliff. But instead of sharing the sun’s gift, Cersei Lannister hoarded the flower’s healing power. The wicked woman not only allowed the Queen to suffer but also continued to use it to maintain her famed radiant beauty. She hoped that if the Queen died, her brother would be enticed by her beauty as King Jamie had once been and that they could be together once more.

All she had to do was sing a song.

_Flower gleam and glow._  
_Let your power shine._  
_Make the clock reverse._  
_Bring back what once was mine._  
_What once was… mine._

But despite Cersei’s attempts to keep her flower hidden, the King’s guard returned to the palace with the golden flower. The flower healed the Queen and a healthy baby prince was born with beautiful golden curls. Though unlike the blond hue of his parent’s hair, the baby prince’s hair shimmered and glistened in the light, more golden than blond.

The royal family adored their newest addition. Princess Myrcella overjoyed at no longer being an only child and having a little brother she could spoil.

To celebrate the prince’s birth, the king and queen launched a flying lantern into the sky. For that one moment, everything was perfect.

Then that moment ended.

Cersei broke into the castle and stole the child, refusing to allow her brother this happiness when she was not the cause.

Just like that, she was gone…taking the young prince with her.

The kingdom searched and searched but they could not find the prince. For deep within the forest, in a hidden tower, Cersei raised the child as her own. Cersei was determined to keep Tommen hidden, stealing this part of Jamie for herself.

But the walls of that tower could not hide everything. Each year on his birthday, the royal family released thousands of lanterns into the sky, in hope that their lost prince would someday return.


	2. She Repays All Debts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She watched the three men. The looks on their face evident enough that her words rung true. “So here’s the deal. If I help you get the crown, you leave. If you harm anyone here… I send immediate word to The Mountain where you traitors are hiding. Deal?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is a prequel to Rea's "and it's like the sky is new."](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5475227/chapters/12652850)

As usual, noise filled the Inn of the Kneeling Man. Traveling merchants, knights passing through, and others of that sort crowded the small structure. It was still early in the day and thus there weren’t as many stupid drunkards as Arya was accustomed to. Seated in the far corner of the Inn, she had the best view of the entire establishment, furthest from prying eyes but closest to the backdoor.

“Want some bread?” 

“Depends,” Arya answered the plump baker. “Will it cost me any?” 

Hot Pie rolled his eyes and slid the small wolf-shaped loaf across the table. “You know Sharma and innkeeper won’t charge you none. Says we got you to thank for keeping the Mountain from causing trouble.”

“Damn right you do. You think it’s easy outsmarting the Mountain That Rides?” Arya tore the tail of the wolf off and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Well, actually it was fairly easy. He’s a greedy bastard. But it was a pleasure. Besides, they already run most of the King’s Road and that whole chunk of the forest. In comparison, our little hollow hill operation is nothing.”

The young woman did smile at her old friend though. After all, he was among the handful who knew her before she became the infamous thief, Cat of the Canals. “It’s really good, Hot Pie. I know you made it special for me.”

The baker scoffed. “Says who? I just gave you some stupid leftover bread.”

“The bread was still warm when you gave it to me. Besides... Who else do you make wolf bread for?” Arya countered. She chugged the last of her ale and wrapped what was left of her loaf and packed it into her bag. “Well, it’s off to work.” 

Tugging her hood over her head as she holstered Needle, Arya headed out the back door and found Jivika in the stables. She ran her hand along her mare’s mane, pulling an apple from her bag to treat the horse. Jivika had this beautiful white coat, unlike any wild filly Arya encountered in her years of wandering. There was a bond between herself and the horse from the very beginning. Mayhaps it had to do with just how much her mare reminded Arya of her childhood filly, the one her father’s stallion had fathered, back in a different time, a different place, when she was a different person. 

Riding along the canal, Arya kept to the trees, down her familiar path where she could survey the various large roads that connected town-to-town and kingdom-to-kingdom. Only the wealthy and noblemen traveled down these roads— her best clients.

“I’ll be back soon,” she whispered to her horse, leaving another apple by the tree. Arya scaled the tree that hung over the road, keeping herself concealed in the leaves and branches where she waited patiently. This was one of her easier jobs. The Innkeeper sent travelers through her part of the road and she robbed them.

Simple, effective, and rewarding.

Sitting up in the tree all afternoon, of the dozen carts and carriages that passed through, none were the sort that demanded to be robbed. Just as she planned to give up her hunt, the pounding of hooves against dirt up the road captured her attention. Even in such a distance, Arya knew she found her mark. She caught the reflection of the sun’s rays bouncing off the gold décor on the horse drawn carriage. Any asshole that could cover their damn carriage in gold and jewels had much to spare. 

Arya leapt nimbly from her tree branch to the roof of the passing carriage. She moved with such stealth that neither the driver nor passenger noticed the additional person tagging along. Using Needle to cut the ropes tying down the various baggage to the back of the carriage, she located a small chest, the length of her forearm, filled with gold pieces and worked to unhook it without disturbing the rest of the luggage. The chest had to be one of the heaviest things she tried to steal from a moving carriage but the loot inside was worth it. She didn’t bother securing the rest of the stuff. By the time they noticed the chest was missing, she’d be long gone.

Carrying the chest, she struggled to stay balanced standing atop of the carriage as it rolled down the road. The wavering roof beneath her feet was hard enough to stand on without the added weight. “You’re freaking Cat of the Canals,” she muttered to herself. “You can do this.”

She whistled for Jivika, making her way to the edge of the carriage as Jivika raced along side the road, intertwining with the trees until she suddenly shot out of the forest onto the open road, trailing behind the carriage. Arya lifted the chest over her shoulder and prepared herself to jump.

_3… 2… 1!_

The landing was rougher than she’d like. Probably gonna bruise and have trouble sitting for a small while. But thankfully she timed it right and did land on her saddle. “Let’s go, girl,” Arya commanded, holding the reigns with one hand and cradling the chest with her other arm. “Hya!”

The horse bolted back into the trees, dashing this way and turning that way to shake off anyone following. Not that they should be followed. Regardless, Arya was one of the best riders in all of Tarth. None matched her mastery. None have ever been able to catch up to her.

She traveled to one of the small villages by the canal. It had been torn apart during some conflict between neighboring lords. Months have passed and the smallfolk was still struggling. Arya kept her hood up, shadows hiding her face as she rode through town, emptying handfuls of gold at every door. About a third of the gold remained in the chest when she finished riding through the entire town.

Arya pocketed less than a full handful of coins, shoving it into her coin purse before riding back to the Inn.

Maybe to some this sort of livelihood could be boring. Cat of the Canals didn’t have any friends. Not like Arya did, Arya who could have made friends with anyone. Then again, Arya didn’t have anything else besides the company of strangers and ‘friends’. No future, no family, no hope… nothing.

But Cat of the Canals? She had adventure, thrill, no strings to tie her down to anyone and anything. Cat of the Canals could do anything she pleased. She was above the law. She was a legend. A heroine to the smallfolk. An allusive criminal to guardsmen and knights everywhere.

That was the life she was living and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The ride back to the Inn went by slower than usual. Not that she could blame Jivika considering the amount of riding they’d done this day. “You deserve some good hay, a good night’s rest and I’ll even give you another apple or two.” Arya climbed off her mare as they entered the stables. With a pressed cheek against her horse, she allowed herself to smile at her only true companion.

Entering through the back, she usually gave the rest of her loot to Sharma for keeping. The Innkeeper’s wife did provide her lodging on most nights and provided her with food, so it was only logical. But the Inn was also one of the only safe places from the Gregor Clegane and his men. The extra gold was to help aid those escaping the atrocities polluting the Kingdom of the Isles and Rivers.

She took her time settling her horse for the night, only picking up the chest when satisfied with her work. A scream pierced the lull of conversation coming from the Inn. Without hesitation, she dropped the chest and sprinted towards the direction of the commotion. She saw the patrons spilling out of the exits, scattering this way and that. Her gut twisted at the very thought of what lay ahead. 

Needle at the ready, Arya maneuvered through an open window and swung herself into the building, landing a solid kick to the asshole with his arm around Sharma’s neck. She had Needle pointed right at the man’s neck, the tip of her blade drawing blood. Grey eyes surveyed the other two men, neither making a move to help the companion Arya pinned to the dirty inn floor.

“Raff, The Tickler _and_ Polliver… To what do we owe this honor? I thought Clegane and I had a… mutual understanding.” 

You wouldn’t know the cruelty and atrocities capable by these men from their look. All three bore plain and ordinary faces that disguised true monsters beneath. 

“Understandings change,” The Tickler retorted. “You want to keep this little hut safe. Fine. Give us need your so-called expertise. You know the story of the Lost Prince from the Kingdom of the Rock. More importantly, the royal jewels. Help us steal the Lost Prince’s Crown and maybe we won’t gut your little friends here.” The Tickler had Hot Pie on his knees, sword pressed roughly against his cheek. It reminded her all too much of another friend she lost because of her mistake.

“Don’t give me that bull. I’ve heard the rumors. This is not a request from Clegane. I heard you idiots really pissed him off. This crown you want, it’s your ticket far _far_ away from the Mountain.” She watched the three men. The looks on their face evident enough that her words rung true. “So here’s the deal. If I help you get the crown, you leave. If you harm anyone here… I send immediate word to The Mountain where you traitors are hiding. Deal?”

Their answer came in Hot Pie and the Inn Keeper’s release. Looking back at them, she offered them a small smile. She owed it to Sharma to do her best and try to secure some sort of peace. They’ve harbored her long enough. Arya was not someone who’d forget a debt that was owed. Turning to face the men who pledge their loyalties to Gregor Clegane, she sighed.

“We leave before nightfall. It’s a long journey to the Kingdom of the Rock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I'm basing the splitting of Westeros on the Seven Kingdoms before Aegon the Conqueror came about.
> 
> Sorry this took so long! The semester got the better of me but I'll hope to post more regularly from here on out.

**Author's Note:**

> [This is a prequel to Rea's "and it's like the sky is new."](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5475227/chapters/12652850)


End file.
